


Things we cared about

by DarkMoon9058



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Chill out, Dream Smp, Dream and Sapnap cuddle, Dream is having a mental breakdown about his mask and identity, F/M, Fun, Fundy - Freeform, Fundy is crying, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I don't ship Tubbo and Tommy, I like making people cry, I suggest you dont read if you dont like angst, Its platonic, Major character death - Freeform, Manberg, Minecraft, New L'Manberg, Phil - Freeform, Phil just noticed he buried his son, Schlatt - Freeform, Schlatt's bit is short, Theres only some Niki x Wilbur in here, Timelines a little messed up, Tommy - Freeform, Tubbo - Freeform, Tubbo's actually a very good president, Wilbur kind of kills himself, dont worry about it, dream - Freeform, eret - Freeform, georgenotfound - Freeform, good luck, i dont wanna see any comments, i dont watch Quackity, i warned you, l'manberg, mcyt - Freeform, not George friendly, sapnap - Freeform, tubbo is president
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoon9058/pseuds/DarkMoon9058
Summary: Wilbur was goneFundy was left outPhil was mourningTechno left themEret tried to move onNiki didn’t let death change herSchlatt had diedQuackity’s righting himselfDream just wants his best friends to be safeSapnap thinks he doesn’t careGeorge is consumed by bitternessTommy is trying to get the thing he cares about backTubbo is trying to get the thing he cared about backOut of all these, who suffers the most? Who suffers the least? Who’s in control? Who still has sanity? What do they care about? Some don’t care about anything. Some care about everything. And some care about one thing, and one thing only.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Eret & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Floris | Fundy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Things we cared about

**Author's Note:**

> Several things to note!
> 
> First of all, the only ship here is Wilbur x Niki, and it's only mentioned in Niki's part!  
> Second of all, not George friendly! If you can't handle George as a semi-bad guy, don't read it. I dont wanna see any comments.   
> Tommy and Tubbo are not shipped, let's remind ourselves that they are minors.   
> I'm aware my writing is shit, again, don't wanna see any comments about that.   
> And lastly, there are a couple of things in here that might trigger some people (Someone commits suicide, someone has a mental breakdown, and there are mentions of character death and don't forget the angst. If you're uncomfortable about any of these subjects, I suggest you don't read)  
> THERE WILL BE SPELLING OR GRAMMAR MISTAKES!  
> I warned y'all.  
> Third work on AO3, please attempt to be nice :D

Wilbur felt the tears streaking down his face. Was he crying? He guessed he was. But why? He wasn’t sad, he wasn’t guilty. He didn’t...feel anything. It was as if his world had dulled to black and white; no emotions traced his vision. He wasn’t worried, and that’s exactly what worried him. He knew there was something wrong with him, but he ignored it. And now, when empty tears ran down his pale cheeks, he wished he hadn’t ignored it. But it was too late. There was nothing inside of him, not even broken pieces. He was a hollow shell of someone he didn’t even know anymore. And as his blurry grey vision stared at the man in the reflection, he didn’t recognize the person he was looking at. The blade in his hands seemed to be the only coloured thing in a dull world. And as he looked at himself in the blade, he slowly moved it towards his chest. He didn’t feel a single bit of pain as he snatched it quickly, stabbing it downwards into his chest. His blood mixed with his tears on the floor as he felt his life force draining away. And he smiled. 

Phil had been wandering around the ruins of his son’s nation when he came across a long dark tunnel with words etched into the walls. His fingers traced the walls as a sense of dread washed over him. He didn’t know why, the tunnel wasn’t even that creepy, but he continued. The scratch marks slowly turned clearer, and Phil recognized the L’Manberg anthem, broken apart and scattered along the corridor. A shiver travelled down his spine. He recognized the lyrics. A lullaby he had sung to his children by the fire, a guitar in his hands and a smile on his face. He noticed words had been added to the lyrics. He stopped and traced his hand over a specific word on the wall. ‘Pride’  
Pride was a touchy subject with Phil. When he was raising his children, pride blinded him without his realizing. He was proud of Techno when he got good grades in school and learned how to fight. He was proud of Tommy when he made friends and passed tests. He was proud of himself for raising such wonderful children. But when they moved out, he realized something. Something that made him stare at the white of his ceiling for the longest time. He was never proud of Wilbur. He would remember when he taught Wilbur guitar; he aced the songs he learned without difficulty. And yet Phil just gave him something new to work on. He didn’t say anything more than a smile and a ‘good job!’. But he wasn’t proud. And as Wilbur grew up, Phil hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t including his middle son. He hadn’t noticed that Wilbur’s musical skill surpassed his own on multiple levels. He hadn’t noticed that Wilbur had surpassed Techno’s fighting abilities. He hadn’t noticed that Wilbur had overtaken Tommy in schooling. And yet he was only proud of Techno and Tommy. He remembered when he praised Techno for being able to lie. He remembered when he praised Tommy for being able to make friends. He remembered that he never praised Wilbur for his ability to convince someone that they weren’t alive. For his ability to get out of every single situation by his observations and talking skills. He never gave praise to Wilbur for the countless friends he had made throughout his school life. In fact, he didn’t remember the last time he had a positive conversation with the boy.  
He sighed and continued down the tunnel, his hands leaving the carved walls. The scent of rotting flesh reached his nose and on reflection his hand reached up and covered his nose, his sleeve helping to block out the putrid scent. He saw a single lantern at the end of the tunnel. Trying his best to ignore the smell, he moved into the room, looking around. The low lighting of the lantern allowed him to see the scratches, getting more frantic until they got calmer until they disappeared. Phil starred, questions forming in his head when his breath suddenly left his lungs, and all thoughts cleared from his head. In the corner sat a figure, dark liquid on the floor. Phil removed the hand at his face, ignoring the smell for now. He picked up the lantern, moving slowly closer to the body. It was wearing a ripped coat, a hole through it from a stab wound from a knife that was still in the man. The hair was tangled, but brown. His face was rotting and pale, unrecognizable. Phil didn’t know who this was. He was clearly tall, definitely more than 6 feet. Phil frowned. No matter who this was, he deserved a proper burial. Phil put the lantern down, grabbing the body by the arm, intending to drag the man outside where he could bury him. And as he struggled down the hallway again, this time with a corpse. And when they passed the word ‘Pride’ a sense of failure began to fill (Phil) Phil. (haha, punz. ((haha, puns)))   
The light of the sun relieved Phil to his core, and he looked down at the body again. He was still unrecognizable.   
“Hey, Phil!” He heard someone call. He knew who it was.   
“Yes Tommy?” he responded, smiling lightly. He saw Tommy, head titled.   
“Who’s that?”  
“I don’t know”  
“Where did you find him?”  
“In there” Phil pointed to the tunnel. Tommy hummed.   
“Interesting. Well, we’re going to bury him, yes?” Phil nodded.  
“That’s what I intended to do” Tommy took the other arm of the man.   
“Where are we taking him?”  
“Just to the graveyard” Phil responded. Tommy nodded. The rest of the journey was done in silence. Shovels were picked up, and a hole was dug. The body was buried. Tommy had placed a flower on the new gravestone, done a small bow, and then walked out respectfully. Phil felt a pang of pride. He looked down at the grave, only now realizing that the man’s beanie had fallen off his head while they were burying him. Phil gently picked it up, shaking it off the dust, intending to place it on the grave. A small white tag on the inside of the hat made Phil stall a bit. Maybe the name was written on there. Then he could carve the name into the grave. He smiled sympathetically, turning the hat inside out to better read it. What he saw made his heart drop.   
‘Wilbur Minecraft-Soot’

Fundy sobbed into his knees. He had felt it. His father was gone. His mother was gone. His fox ears were dropping downwards, and his closed eyes leaked tears. He was staying at Phil’s for now, but that didn’t make him any less lonely. Phil always made sure he was doing alright, but most times he was called away to work on projects Fundy wasn’t involved in. But today, he could hear his grandfather beneath his floor on the ground level, crying into his hands. Fundy didn’t know why Phil had been crying until he heard the first mumble.   
“Will...I’m so sorry”   
And from there Fundy knew it was over. He never got to say that he forgave his father for not always being there. He never got to explain his side of a story. He never got to learn how to play guitar. And now it was too late. The colours were beginning to fade, but Fundy refused to let them. He may not care about anything now, but he refused to have the same fate as his father. 

Techno’s blade clashed against his opponents. His stance was even and went without a fault. The same could not be said for his opponent. Techno could tell the kid was scared, it was the slight tremor in his legs and the look of terror in his brown eyes. He could also tell that the kid was inexperienced. His stance was too narrow, and the sword was too heavy for the kid to properly hold it up. Techno launched himself forward, leaving nothing but a trail of dust in his wake, the challenger’s eyes widening slightly. He saw the sword-swinging downwards; a good move, Techno had to agree. But Techno saw it coming and slid beneath the blow, taking out the kid’s legs and landing on top of the guy.   
“Technoblade wins!” Simon called broadly from the sidelines. Techno sighed and removed himself from the kid, helping him up. The kid gave an awkward smile and left the stadium.  
“Next up, we have Wilboo Minecraft-Spook!” Simon shouted. Techno raised his eyebrow. Wilboo Minecraft-Spook? Sounded like a nerd. A very tall male stood at the end of the arena. He was wearing no armour, not a speck of metal on him. He was wearing a yellow sweater with a hole in the chest, and black pants, a pair of leather combat boots on his feet. A neck scarf was around his neck, and a light smile was on his face. He didn’t look like much, but Techno knew looks could be deceiving. In Wilboo’s hand was a sword, netherite by the looks of it. Techno thought that he looked remarkably close to Wilbur, but with paler skin and different coloured eyes.   
“Good morning!” He also sounded a lot like Wilbur, polite and with a British accent.   
“Morning’” Techno responded. He heard Simon shift in his seat by the sidelines.   
“3” Techno noticed that Wilboo’s hand clutched the sword’s handle tightly. He probably couldn’t disarm the guy with a grip like that.   
“2” He also noticed that there wasn’t a fault in the guy’s starting stance either; his knees were bent, shoulder-width apart, one behind the other.   
“1” Techno ignored everything else as he zoomed forwards, blade at his side, already moving towards a side strike. Wilboo predicted this move and put his sword in the arena ground, steadying it and blocking the hit before quickly removing it from the dust and striking upwards. Techno rolled, recovering his balance. Wilboo gave a ghastly smile.   
“I haven’t had a fight last this long since I got to the arena,” Techno commented.   
“Neither have I! Exciting, isn’t it! The thrill of battle roaring in your veins'' Techno waiting for Wilboo to make the next move. The man shifted to his right leg and shot forwards with the speed of a striking snake. Techno expected a strike to the right, moving his blade to intercept when Wilboo suddenly dropped to the ground in a roll, moving underneath Techno’s sword and knocking the pinkette off his feet in the process. The next thing Techno knew, there was a leather combat boot on his chest. Techno let all the energy drain from his limbs.   
“I would declare you beaten, but I know better. Ghostza taught me all about the little move you’re trying to pull off” Techno grunted, struggling beneath the man’s weight. His fingertips managed to grab hold of a sword, and with great effort, he swung the blade around, catching Wilboo in the chest. Quickly, he kicked his foot upwards, sending the taller to the ground. He used the leftover momentum to push himself backwards and onto his feet. The fight reminded him a lot of his and Wilbur’s childhood sparring practises, and the times Wilbur had started to kick his ass more then Techno could kick his. He missed those days dearly, but he knew there was no going back to those times. For now, he had to focus on this fight. 

Eret was sitting on the castle wall, staring at the skies. It was a time to reflect for him, reflect on when he used to be a part of L’Manberg, how he used to be one of Wilbur’s most trusted men. Back when things were peaceful. Now, it was all arguments. Even Tubbo and Tommy were in a disagreement, and Eret thought nothing could tear those boys apart. He was wrong. Dream, high and mighty, tore their friendship apart like it was swiss cheese. Easily. Mercilessly. The white mask covering his face prevented him from being read; no one could see his facial expressions. And they all knew his face was just as blank as his mask. And Eret, though trying to see the best in him, couldn’t see past that. It was just...blank. And yet the dethroned king wanted peace for Dream’s unrested soul. It didn’t take a detective to notice the exhaustion behind the mask-wearers movements. It almost made Eret feel bad for him. He had never once seen Dream eat, sleep, rest, or even dress his wounds. Even when he worked for Dream during the revolutionary war. He was always on guard, fighting, or making plans. He always placed himself in danger and gave his friends jobs with chances of survival. He was like a suicide soldier. Eret tried to get him to eat something, but Dream had ignored him and sent him to guard the castle. And so, Eret had sat on the wall of the castle, staring at the stars, exactly like he was doing now. Only now, if he was seen here, things wouldn’t end well. He was no longer king, but the fact never deterred him. If he wanted to sit on the castle walls and gaze at the stars, he would sit on the castle walls and gaze at the stars. Everyone knew that Eret does what Eret pleases. And even though the soldiers would harm him, he knew Dream and Sapnap would never even consider harming him. Though Dream dethroned him, the blond gave him a big house, resources, food, and the option to travel freely throughout his land. And every time he was feeling down, Eret would always hear a knock on his door with Dream on the other end. Sapnap was respectable and shared many of Eret’s own traits. They were close friends. They would never consider harming him. He had countless memories of laughing and joking around with the ebony warrior. George on the other hand was different. Eret knew the man had been jealous. Jealous of the throne perhaps, or maybe jealous of the relations between him and his two best friends. Nevermind the reason, it wouldn’t change anything anyway. And now that George had been dethroned from the king due to threats of death, he was consumed by bitterness. How did Eret know this? He could sense it in the air every time George walked by. He could see it in every expression George made. And he didn’t even have to look to know that George currently resented both Eret AND Dream. And he stayed silent, observed, noticed scattered behaviour throughout Dream’s entire company. Sapnap was skittish and less confident. George was jealous and hateful. And Dream was struggling and exhausted. And Eret wished he could help, he really did. But Dream wouldn’t accept help from a de-throned king anyway. Emotional help, maybe, but never anything to do with the SMP. And between the four, Dream Sapnap, George, and Eret himself, he felt bad. Too many friendships were splitting apart. And though he tried to knit and sew them back together, too many rips and tears presented themselves with every second. Eret couldn’t keep up. 

Niki whistled as another loaf of bread baked. It was almost last year when she felt the pang, and since then she’d been doing a lot better. Almost a year ago, she had been baking bread, a baguette to be exact when she felt emotion. A strong fast strike to her heart, a mix of sadness and sorrow so strong that she had almost fallen backwards, her breathing laboured. And seconds after the pang passed, she knew what had happened. Wilbur was dead. And from there, she grieved, mourned, never told anyone for their own sake. But after only a month, she was back on her feet, baking and singing, playing the guitar and having fun. And sure, she still felt fragments of the pang every now and then, but these times she was able to ignore it. And she wondered why she was the only one to feel the pang. She felt like a school kid, scared and confused because a math problem she didn’t know how to solve was due tomorrow. Why hadn’t anybody else felt the punch of Wilbur’s death? And it was only four months later when she got her answer. It was because she loved him. Tommy thought he was gone. Phil didn’t show any signs of fatherly love. Techno didn’t love anybody. Tubbo loved him but wasn't able to connect with him since he was forced to stay in Manberg. Niki was the only one who truly loved him, for who he was, for his music, for his personality. And Niki was the only one who truly knew he was dead. And with every day that passed, she became less emotional about it. She spoke to the sky at night in case he could hear her, but other than that, she had moved on. Freshly baked bread was always around, and she kept on her brightest smile for anyone who wanted to see it. And when Phil carried out the news of Wilbur’s death, Niki just gave him her brightest smile and a tight hug.   
“Why aren’t you upset?” Phil had asked, voice cracking.   
“Phil, I already knew” she had whispered back. And she helped every single person get past the grief and devastation of losing a great president. And even after death, Niki was still kind. 

Schlatt was dead. His world was black and white, and he was stuck in a void. Not quite black, not quite white, but not grey. There was no floor, no ceiling, no objects to interact with. Just him and empty air. He was wearing a baby blue sweater and black pants, baggy and oversized. He was comfortable like this. He barely ever got time out of his suit anymore, so this was a nice change of pace. He was also smaller as if he had shrunk. He was always a shorter man, but wearing such soft and comfortable clothing made him feel even smaller. And for once he didn’t mind. It reminded him of times before L’Manberg when the SMP hadn’t even existed. Back when he was a dumb teenager, back when Wilbur was a dumb teenager. They used to be dumb teenagers together. They both got invited to the Dream SMP, and they both started their own paths. Sclatt preferred not to think about his past, but now that he was void of feelings, much like how he was void of most colours, he didn’t mind thinking about Wilbur’s exile, or his feelings of unsatisfactory. None of that mattered anymore, not while he was here in this special hell. He wasn’t completely transparent, but he wasn’t solid either. More of an in-between. And as he gazed into the dull void around him, the only thing he could feel was regret. 

Quackity placed another box on the pathway. He was officially moving into a house in New L’Manberg, just off the platforms. It wasn’t fancy or roomy, but it was comfortable and homey, so it was exactly enough. He sighed in satisfaction as he gazed at the house, picking up a box and taking it inside. Quackity was a special little thing. He wasn’t on either side per-say, more of a wildcard. One minute he’s on New L’Manberg’s side, the next he’s with the SMP. And this time, he was intent on attempting to remain neutral. He was always kind to Tubbo and Tommy whenever he saw them and often hung out with Fundy. He was happy here, finally happy after a year of terror and darkness. Nobody called him ‘flatty patty’ anymore, nobody tried to manipulate him, and there was no toxic relationship. There was no Schlatt. And Quackity was happy with that. 

Dream took off his mask. He felt vulnerable without it, but he knew that sometimes it was better to be vulnerable than bottled. He was in his house, a place only Sapnap knew of. It was more his and Sapnap’s house since the other often slept over, and neither wanted to tell George about it. George would just take the place over until neither could recognize it. He sighed, sitting on the edge of his king-sized bed. The window was open, allowing the chilly breeze of the night to drift into the room. Fresh air calmed him down, and he almost felt like crying. He hadn’t eaten or rested in days, and every time he tried to sleep he would get a nightmare. Usually, whenever this happened he’d spend the night with Sapnap, who always knew what to do. But arguments can tear people apart. Dream knew this from watching Tommy and Tubbo, he knew this from Schlatt and Wilbur, and he knew this from Eret and Fundy. And yet he got in stupid arguments with his friends anyway, trying to convince them that he was doing it to protect them. They would never agree or even try to see things his way, and at the end of the day, they were apart. And he never felt like crying more in his life. He was alone tonight, just like he had been his entire life. Sapnap and George thought he didn't care about them. He did care. He cared more than they cared about themselves. He didn’t know why they couldn’t see that. He may have dethroned George, but it was for a cause greater than he himself. George’s life was on the line, he had to do something. And now George won’t listen to any explanation he tries to give. Sapnap thought Dream didn’t care about him because Dream never did anything for him, and suddenly he’s threatening New L’Manberg because they burnt George’s house down. In reality, Dream hadn’t known George’s house was burnt down until after the fact. He had been planning threats against New L’Manberg for a while now, ever since he dethroned George. And now Sapnap and George had teamed against Dream, and it was all a big mess.  
...It was the mask, wasn’t it? They couldn’t see his eyes, or the emotion on his face when he does these things. They couldn’t see the truth in his forest eyes when he told them why. They couldn’t see the tears streaking down his face when he argued. They thought he didn’t care. They thought. He didn’t. Care. ‘CRASH’ the white porcelain mask was thrown against the wall, shattering into millions of small pieces. Dream didn’t care. He stood up, straight and tall, looking into the mirror. His blonde hair was tangled and messy and there were large bags under his eyes, but he looked like himself. And he smiled. For once his dull eyes relit, like a fire. For once his skin wasn’t pale, for once he liked his freckles. It was good to feel vulnerable. He felt more human when he was. 

Sapnap opened the door to his and Dream’s house. He needed to speak to him. He was calmer now, ready to listen to Dream’s explanation, unlike George.   
“Dream?” he asked quietly. The house was silent, and the lights were off. Sapnap walked up to Dream’s door, lightly knocking on the door.   
“Dream?” he asked, stronger this time. No response. He slowly opened the doors, seeing the shape huddled underneath the blankets. Sapnap gave a half-smile. He hadn’t seen Dream sleep in days. The window was open, and Dream’s gentle breaths made Sapnap feel happy. He was okay after the fight. ‘It’s because he didn’t care about the fight!’ he pushed the thought down instantly, shaking his head. He scanned the room, gaze finally landing on a shattered white mass in the corner of the room. He assumed it was just a vase that had fallen over during the night. But the more he stared at it, the more the pieces knit themselves back together in his mind. That wasn’t a vase...it was Dream’s mask. His gaze rested on the broken mask for another minute before he softly glanced back at Dream. His mask was not resting on the bedside table. Sapnap grinned and walked forwards, taking Dream’s hand in his. Slowly and carefully, he laid himself next to Dream and slid his arms around Dream’s chest, hugging his best friend close. It felt nice to have Dream snuggled up against his chest, and he could have sworn he felt Dream press into Sapnap’s embrace. They would talk about this in the morning. For now, he just wanted to sleep with his best friend again, pretend as nothing happened, just for the night. 

George sighed as he gazed at the castle from afar. The castle had once been his for a short period of time. Once he sat on that throne, and once he commanded armies and legions stronger than Manberg and Pogtopia put together. But now, it was all revoked and back under the control of Dream and only Dream. George didn’t understand why Dream revoked his kingship. He wasn’t abusing his power, he wasn’t being toxic, he wasn’t doing anything bad. If anything, he was just...sitting there and gazing at all the land he owned. All the land that wasn’t his anymore. He wasn’t allowed in the castle anymore, and instead of the glorious castle, Dream had provided him with a small mansion or a giant house. It had millions of George’s favourite things, things that Dream had carefully placed in the house. George thought nothing of it as he barely spent any time in the house. He spent most of his time doing a whole lot of nothing. Staying off castle grounds, heeding Sapnap’s warnings about New L’Manberg, arguing with Dream, accusing Dream of not caring, criticizing Dream, spitting Dream, hanging out with Sapnap. But Sapnap was nowhere to be found and neither was Dream. George suspected Dream had taken Sapnap somewhere. It wouldn’t be the most far-fetched thing Geroge had seen. His gaze was unwavering. Small fractions of memories and sentences floated around in his mind until they didn’t make sense anymore. And then they began to re-organize themselves into sentences no one had ever said to him. His eyes narrowed as he focused. A figure was sitting on the wall, looking at the stars. He was wearing a golden crown and a royal gown.   
“The new king,” George thought with spite. Replaced so soon. Looking closer he saw that the man was wearing shades. Eret. That was Eret. Eret wasn’t supposed to be on castle grounds either. So why was he there? Perhaps Dream gave him permission. Perhaps he was re-crowned king. Perhaps he just ignored the rules and went up there anyway. Perhaps he was there for the better of the world. George would never know, Eret could see things he couldn’t. Like how he could analyze Dream. Like how his face contorted with sympathy every time Dream passed him. It was as if the man could see through Dream’s mask. And it made George angry. He should be the one to know when Dream was upset. He should be the one to know when Dream was lying, telling the truth, happy, sad, determined, loving. Not Eret, not Sapnap, Him. It made him growl. And he knew Sapnap could tell basic things about Dream, like his general mood or how much he slept, but he wasn't paying attention most of the time. And George couldn’t tell anything about Dream. What frustrated him was the fact that Dream could read him, but he couldn’t read Dream. It made him feel a constant state of vulnerability and he knew he shouldn’t be scared of his best friend, but he was. And that’s what made him lash out and try to control every situation Dream was in. How he held Dream on a leash. And he knew Dream would never leave his side. Not because Dream actually cares, George knew he didn’t, but because George was his only friend. And people like Dream, users and abusers, deserve to be treated like dogs. He felt a pang at the thought of younger Dream, the one who defended his friends with his life. He almost felt bad, before he remembered; this was his fault. It’s not like Dream cared anyway. George could die tomorrow and he bet Dream wouldn’t shed a single tear. He hadn’t realized he was clutching the handle of his dagger until he threw it into the bark of a tree. 

Tommy wanted one thing. His discs. They were the only thing he cared about. The only thing he wanted. And he would do anything to get them back. And he knew Tubbo would follow him even if Tommy were to murder someone. And so he was able to fight back against Dream. And when the subject of exile came around, he tried to do anything in his power to convince Tubbo not to exile him.   
“Tubo!” he exclaimed.   
“It was a horrible idea to team up with Technoblade!” Tubbo exclaimed.   
“All it’s going to bring is another war, and New L’Manberg isn’t ready for that yet!” Tubbo argued. Tommy was taken aback.   
“Even if it means exiling me?” he asked, quieter. Tubbo’s eyes shun with tears, but Tommy could see he was refusing to let them fall.   
“Even if it means exiling you” Tubbo confirmed. Dream took one step towards Tommy.   
“What about the discs, Tubbo!” Tommy felt a spark of relief when Tubbo’s eyes lit with fire. But it wasn’t the type of fire to warm you at night. It was the type of fire to burn you.   
“THE DISCS DON’T MATTER, TOMMY!” he shouted. The people in the area recoiled in shock of the outburst. “THEY NEVER MATTERED!” Tubbo was moving forwards now, tears rolling down his cheeks.   
“THEY MATTERED TO YOU, TOMMY!” Anger bursted in Tommy’s chest.   
“YOU CARED ABOUT THEM TOO, DICKHEAD!” Tommy reminded him, yelling right back.   
“I CARED ABOUT THEM BECAUSE YOU CARED ABOUT THEM!” Tubbo responded. He sniffled.  
“They never mattered to me. I could throw them away without a single thought. But I cared about them because I knew they mattered to you. And you mattered to me. And now I see, they matter to you more than I matter to you” his voice was lowered now, full of emotion, yet cold as ice. Tommy froze.   
“Tubbo, that’s not- Dream’s trying to-”  
“Tear us apart? By wanting the discs?”   
“Yeah! The green bastard is trying to pick us apart! Tubbo, you know I care about you”  
“Then why can’t you just let go?” Tubbo asked, voice shaking. “If I mean more then the discs, why can’t you just choose me? Why can’t you just prove to me that I’m worth more than objects?” Tubbo asked. Tommy was speechless.   
“Because he’s trying to take the one thing I care about away from me!” It just slipped out. Tommy felt something inside him crack as he watched Tubbo’s eyes widen, more tears slipping out of his eyes, his posture shaking and his face darkening.   
“T-the one thing you c-care about?” His voice was no longer strong and powerful. It was weak and shaky, and Tommy remembered that Tubbo was still a scared little kid, made leader, just trying to steer his people free of war.   
“N-Not the only thing I care about” Tommy’s gaze drifted to Ramboo, he was eyeing the situation carefully. Tubbo seemed to notice this, and wiped his eyes.   
“It’s decided then” Tubbo whispered. People leaned in closer to hear the decision.   
“Tommy has made it clear today that he doesn’t care about me. And while saying this, he’s saying he doesn’t care about New L’Manberg, it’s citizens, the home we’ve built, the family we’ve created. All he cares about is himself and his stupid discs. He’s selfish” people nodded in agreement. Tubbo looked at Tommy dead in the eyes.   
“And Tommy, when you said things would be different if you were president, you were right” Tommy tilted his head in confusion.   
“You were absolutely right. You want to know why? It’s because I WOULD HAVE THROWN THOSE DISCS INTO THE FIRE MYSELF IF IT MEANT PROTECTING YOU AND NEW L’MANBERG!” Tubbo screamed. “I PUT MYSELF BEFORE EVERY SINGLE TIME! I PUT YOU ABOVE MY FAMILY, ABOVE MY HOME, ABOVE MYSELF. AND EVERY SINGLE TIME ALL I GET BACK IS MORE AND MORE INSULTS! ‘YOU’RE SO CLINGY, TUBBO!’ ‘STOP DOING THAT, TUBBO’ ‘DO THIS, TUBBO’ ‘DO THAT, TUBBO’” Tubbo took in a deep breath.   
“WHEN WILL YOU REALIZE THAT I AM NOT YOUR PLAY-THING! I AM A LIVING, BREATHING HUMAN BEING WHO’S TRYING TO BE A GOOD LEADER. AND I’M NOT PUTTING MY PEOPLE AS RISK JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN’T OBEY ONE ORDER. ONE. Tommy, I’m sorry, I really am. But you can’t just come into my nation and tell me what to do. You can’t just expect me to follow you into the flames. You can’t expect me to throw myself into the lava. Not when you yourself placed this responsibility on my shoulders. Not when you insult me at every turn. Not when you place objects above our friendship” And with that, Tubbo reached up to his neck and united the red bandana he had been wearing since day one on the SMP. And he just stared at it in his hands, before his hand clenched. A tear splashed onto the red fabric.   
“I-I can’t” Tubbo stuttered. He stuffed it into his jacket pocket.   
“And now, I exile TommyInnit from New L’Manberg until he can prove he puts our nation in front of himself. Until he proves that friendship is worth more than objects. Dream, please detain and escort him out of the nation” Tommy stared wide-eyed at the president, and snapped at the guards and tried to reach for Tubbo.   
“Tubbo, surely not” But Tubbo had turned around, his posture making it obvious he was sobbing. Eret surged forwards to catch him when he collapsed on himself and flung himself into Eret’s embrace. Tommy could barely hear what they were saying while he tried to escape.   
“Eret? I...I...didn’t want to. But he gave me no choice” Eret sighed.   
“It was the only option, Tubbo. He would have died in the war the discs would bring. It’s best for both of you to have him gone” Tommy stopped struggling. Eret was right. This was better for both of them. And at least he still had his discs. 

Tubbo was crying. He dared not make noise, people couldn’t know their president was weak. And so he sobbed without sound, tears with no noise. Tommy had once been his everything. He would have murdered to keep him safe. He would have burnt things to keep him safe. He would’ve killed himself to keep Tommy safe. And he would do all those things for things Tommy cared about. The discs? He would do anything to get those back. They mattered a lot to Tommy. His pets? Tubbo would do anything to get those back. They mattered to Tommy. And he knew that Tommy cared about him above all other things. Well, he thought. But when it came down to it, discs, objects, to Tubbo, his best friend, Tommy couldn't choose. And to Tubbo, that spoke volumes. And now that Tommy was gone, he didn’t know what to do. All his actions were based on Tommy. Protect Tommy, protect the things Tommy cares about. And now that Tommy was removed from the picture, he didn’t know how to fill that gap. And so in the following weeks, he filled his schedule up with presidential work to get his mind off Tommy. It worked but cost him hours of sleep. He was exhausted, sad, grief-ridden, but determined.   
It was a year now. A year between the disc fight and the present. Tubbo was doing so much better now. He found things to care about, things that matter to him. And he always had a space open for Tommy when he was ready to come back. New L’Manberg had been fight-free for over a year now, and Tubbo was proud that he was able to keep the peace. He was taller now, more defined, an amazing fighter both in willpower and in physical strength. He had allowed his brown hair to grow out more, and now he had enough of it to tie it into a ponytail. Every once and a while a few curls would free itself from the ponytail, but he never minded. His brown hair curled near the bottom, framing his face and defining his freckles and green eyes. His preferred weapon was a dagger, though he was almost at Dream’s level with the axe, and he could hold off Techno with the sword. He was built like Dream, slim and slender, though muscular and strong. It was late this year, so he was 18 now, and Eret and Fundy were his right-hand men. When all three of them couldn’t lead, Niki was to take charge. New L’Manberg had now expanded into the skies, wooden houses and cozy-style builds were supported by wooden and cobblestone beams, winding staircases and scaffolding to climb you higher and higher. (It’s like New L’Manberg now but the part build over the explosion goes higher into the sky in the same style)   
It was sunrise, and Tubbo was sitting in the yard of his own house, the highest building in New L’Manberg. He was low enough to be able to breathe properly but high enough to feel the clouds. His yard was more of a garden, a big wooden platform with plants planted around the area, decorating it with colourful flowers and intricate vines, bees free-roaming the gardens. He was sitting on his bench by the railing, listening to a disc in his jukebox. It was some of the many things he had learned to care for. His flowers, his bees, his house, the sky, the sunset, the clouds. And the disc that was playing meant something to him as well. He never got too attached to things, but this disc had been recorded and written by the members of New L’Manberg. It was almost 10 minutes long and covered almost every style of music imaginable from Niki’s soft guitar music to Eret’s jazz to Fundy’s rap. And Tubbo loved every single piece of it. And this position reminded him a lot of Tommy. When they used to gaze over Old L’Manberg by the sunset, listening to pre-recorded music. But now, it was only Tubbo, gazing over New L’Manberg with special music. It wasn’t a cold morning, granted Tubbo was almost never cold, but rather a crisp one. The air was fresh and sharp on the skin. Tubbo always enjoyed mornings like these. He sighed in satisfaction before removing the disc, carefully placing it into a case painted by New L’Manbergians, and opened the door to his house. It was roomy inside, though small and simple enough to be homey. Tubbo placed the case on his desk and turned off his desk lamp. His bed was unmade, but Tubbo liked his room unkempt. He left the house, looking down at his nation. There were four ways he could get to the ground. He could go down the stairs, slowly, but he’d pass the other residents living in the skies, he could go down the later from here to the bottom, faster but tedious, he could jump into the lake below, quick but wet, or he could slide down the scaffolding. And without another thought, Tubbo launched himself into the air, doing a slow backflip before reaching out and grabbing the edge of the scaffolding, slowing him down just enough so he could control his fall. Nearing the button, he tightened his grip, slowing himself down. He bent his knees and kicked off the wooden beams, doing a backflip and landing in the grass in a kneeling position. He sighed, getting up from the ground. He hadn’t seen Tommy in almost 2 years. Tubbo was sure he looked nothing like the little bee boy Tommy knew, but he was still Tubbo underneath his strong appearance. He skipped down the sidewalk, saying his greetings to anybody he walked by.   
“Morning President!” An ebony haired-kid shouted, waving frantically in the air.   
“Good Morning, Jack” Tubbo called back, waving. Jack, excited at being acknowledged by the President, squealed and ran into his house, probably wanting to tell his mother all about it. Tubbo grinned. He took the hair tie around his wrist off, gathering up his brown curls and tying them up. Immediately some of his curls sprung out of the tie, but Tubbo ignored that. He continued to walk down the pathway, passing kids, teenagers, and adults alike, all of them living in peace, some sparring with each other, some gardening, others baking.   
“Tubbo!” Tubbo knew that voice anywhere. He spun around and launched himself into a hug.   
“Eret!” he cheered. Eret chuckled at Tubbo’s attitude.   
“How are you this morning?” Eret asked. Tubbo smiled.   
“Doing amazing, King” he responded, giving Eret a light wink. Eret put down his flower basket and reached down, plucking one from the basket. It was a pretty thing, baby blue petals with a yellow center.   
“For you, Bee,” Eret said, gently holding it out for Tubbo to take. Tubbo gladly picked it up, examining it, before tucking it into his hair.   
“Aw, you look fucking adorable” Eret purred with brotherly teasing. Tubbo shoved away his hand.   
“Shut up, Eret” he whined. Eret laughed, a deep rumble noise that sent Tubbo right through a spiral of calm.   
“Do you know where Fundy and Niki are?” Eret asked once he had calmed down.   
“No, I didn’t see them while I was leaving home. When was the last time you saw them?” Eret adjusted his sunglasses.   
“Yesterday evening at dinner. You left early, and we stayed up until two in the morning, having fun and singing songs. You really should have been there, you’re 18 now! Legal drinking age! Plus, you’re the president, you can just bend the rules around a bit. Have a night of relaxation for once!” Eret spun the answer into a list of reasons Tubbo should try alcohol. Tubbo sighed.   
“Eret, I told you already. I tried it once, I didn’t like it” Eret hummed.   
“Well, it was worth a shot. When was the last time you went out and enjoyed the forest air?” Eret asked. Tubbo thought.   
“Well, it has been a while...I could do with a good spar, a swim, or just a walk in the forest...aw fine, you win!” Tubbo threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.   
“I’ll take your stupid break. Meet me in the training hollow in the afternoon, yeah? I’ll be there” Eret nodded. Tubbo waved his goodbyes and made his way towards the forest, hand automatically finding its way to his belt, where he kept his dagger hidden from the rest of the world unless someone bothered to look. He breathed in the fresh air and deflated. A smile broke out across his face as he surged forwards, knowing exactly where he wanted to go. The river. 

It had been almost two years since Tommy had been exiled. He hadn’t grown much, since he was already quite tall, but now he was a small bit shorter than Wilbur had been. He was constantly being followed by Dream, why, he had no idea. At first, Dream had tormented him, but every time it was like they became travel buddies instead of enemies. They stayed together no matter what. Dream’s only rule was that Tommy wasn’t allowed past the forest. As soon as he reached the other end of the forest, he wasn’t allowed any further. And Dream was not a person to be tested. And though Tommy hated biding by his rules, he knew that it was what Tubbo would have wanted. His blonde hair was now a very slightly darker blonde, and his blue eyes had gained a sharper edge to them. His jaw was sharper and his hair was slightly longer. He hadn’t put on a lot of weight or muscle, but he still carried some skill with weapons. He still wasn’t even close to beating Dream, but he was getting there slowly. He had a scar along his neck from a close call with a skeleton, and his hands were callused and scarred. But a good thing came out of his exile as well. He realized that he didn’t care about the discs anymore. Sure, they still reminded him of things from his childhood, but he was much less attached than he was. He knew that when he was staring at the discs a little over a year ago. He had dropped one into a lava pool and watched as it contorted and bending while it burned. And he didn’t cry, he didn’t rage, he just stared. He didn’t care. And he smiled. He realized that all the sentimental attachment was aimed at Tubbo, not his discs. Every time he listened to them, he got memories of him and Tubbo, Tubbo’s smiles, his bees, his clothing, and how Tommy insisted the other was clingy, even though he wasn’t. He felt a pang of sadness. He was always teasing and bullying Tubbo, and Tubbo never stood up to him, so Tommy assumed he was fine with it. But Tubbo was just taking it, not wanting to snap back. And then, as the disc disappeared beneath the bubbles of molten rock, steam hissed up at him as tears began to drop. All this time he had treated Tubbo like shit just to protect his discs. And he was sorry. Now, he was determined to prove to himself that he could care about Tubbo as much as Tubbo cared about him. He just didn’t know where to start. He sighed as he walked through the forest again. He had memorized every single tree in the area, every single flower and every blade of grass. Though boring and familiar, there was something comforting in waking up to the same sights every day.   
“Here we are, don’t turn away now” he began to sing, slowly at first until he found his voice.   
“We are the warriors that built this town!” he said enthusiastically.   
“Here we are, don’t turn away~ now” he did a little spin, getting closer and closer to the border.   
“We are the warriors that built this town from dust!” It was a song Wilbur had written during the Revolutionary War. Tommy always liked the song for it’s banger lyrics and a good beat, and he quickly memorized it so that he could play with Wilbur. He opened his mouth to sing the next line when the sounds of clashing swords reached his ears. Quickly, he dropped to the ground, moving stealthily towards the noise. The noises were coming from the fields, and Tommy grabbed a branch above his head and climbed straight into the branches, leaves thick enough so he wouldn’t be spotted unless the person was looking. He peered through the tree, seeing two figures clashing blades. It was almost like a dance, though one was clearly outmatched. One was wearing a red royal gown with white fur trim and a golden crown, and the other was wearing a loose green shirt paired with denim suspenders and brown combat boots. Both had brown hair, though the one in red was straight and medium length while the one in green was long and slightly curled, tied in a pony-tail. The only other features Tommy could make out were the shades on the red’s face and the green eyes of the smaller. And suddenly one of the swords flung into the air, landing in the grass. Feet were kicked and one was placed on the ground.   
“Wow, you’ve really gotten better in the past years!” The voice was deep and British.   
“Thanks! I almost beat Dream once, that was a fun one” Tommy’s eyes widened. No way this guy almost beat Dream!   
“Really? Well, that’s a fight I’d love to watch” the two were most obviously British, and one sounded younger than the other.   
“I’ll be sure to invite you next time we spar. Now that I’ve had my break, I should get back to New L’Manberg!” the one in green sheathed his sword.   
“You work every day! Fundy, Niki, and I can handle all your jobs if you want to take a break” Fundy and Niki? This guy must be a big deal to have those as his friends. Commoners don’t usually have members of the cabinet working for them.   
“Eret, this morning was my break! I gotta get back” The other argued. ‘So the one in red is Eret...but who’s the one in green?’   
“Look, I know you’re only filling up your schedule to prevent thinking about him, but that’s what the alcohol is for!” the older stated in a matter-of-fact way.   
“Just because I’m eighteen now doesn’t mean I need to drink” Tommy tilted his head in thought. Eighteen, a good fighter, controls members of the cabinet. Who could this be?  
“Well at least give the bee colonies a visit! You haven’t seen them in months!” Eret shot back.  
“That’s true, I do want to see the bees again...Well, how about this! I take the day off the rest of the day and tomorrow, but after that, I’ll get back to my job. Capiche?”   
“Capiche. Took you long enough to take a damn break” Eret laughed. The other giggled.   
“Yeah, I guess it did. Up for another round?”  
“You know I am, Bee” Tommy assumed ‘Bee’ was the nickname for the younger, and he got lost in thought as the sounds of clashing swords reached his ears again. Young, likes bees, doesn’t take breaks, doesn’t drink, nicknamed ‘Bee’, brown hair, green eyes, likes green-no way. There was no way this was Tubbo. This guy was tall, regal and powerful! Tubbo was short, innocent and soft. No way.   
“Haha! Got you again!”   
“We should get that duel with Dream scheduled!” Tommy leaned further out of the tree. It was a mistake. He lost his footing, causing him to scrabble, barely catching himself on one of the thicker branches. This wouldn’t have been a big deal if he hadn’t moved the leaves. Instantly Eret swung towards the direction of the tree.   
“Someones here”  
“I know. I heard it too. Do you think it's?-”  
“Don’t get your hopes up, you haven’t seen him in two years. If he wasn’t in here then, what are the chances he’s here now?”  
“High. He’s unpredictable, could be anywhere at any moment”  
“How do you know?”  
“Look who you’re talking to”  
“Good point”   
Tommy turned around and weaved his way through the trees before the two could out him. Dream had taught him how to do parkour, so he could move swiftly through the trees. But something told him that he wasn’t safe in the trees either. Then he could feel the slight footsteps below him, and he just went faster. If he could make it to the caves, he could lose them in the systems. His arms ached from the movement, but adrenaline kept him going. He heard an echoed groan from a zombie. The cave was nearby. He kept going, sweat forming on his brow. He saw the dark hole in the ground and flung himself towards it, letting go of the branch and cannonballing straight down the tunnel, rolling once he hit the ground. He heard them behind him, yet he kept going. ‘I need to take a left here-Wait, where’s the split?’ it slowly dawned on him that he had gone into the wrong cave. And he had hit a dead end. He turned around, drawing his blade.   
“Why did they go in here? It’s a dead-end” he heard Eret ask.  
“No clue man, maybe they don’t know the forest well” the other responded. The two figures rounded the corner. The younger’s eyes widened.   
“Tommy?” he gasped.   
“Tubbo?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey fellas, how'd you like?  
> Here's how everyone turned out!  
> Wilbur was gone and didn't care about anything, since he's dead  
> Fundy cares about everything now, he got past his father's death  
> Phil cares about one thing now, it's his family  
> Techno doesn't care about anything, he went back to the arena and turned off his emotions a little  
> Eret cares about everything, he just wants everyone to be happy  
> Niki cares about everything, she wants to cheer everyone up   
> Schlatt doesn't care about anything, he's dead  
> Quackity cares about one thing, it's staying neutral this time  
> Dream cares about one thing, keeping his friends safe even if it means sacrificing himself  
> Sapnap cares about everything, and he wants to help Dream get better with self-care  
> George cares about one thing, getting his throne back  
> Tommy cares about everything, realizing his affection was aimed at Tubbo, not the discs  
> Tubbo cares about everything, and he builds New L'Manberg up from the ground
> 
> I got an idea for yet another fiction called "Press Esc" so look out for that! It's also another ball of angst. If you'd like to see me write something, request something and I'll tell you if I feel comfortable/are able to write it. Please note, I'm horrible at conversations.


End file.
